


soft the drowsy hours are creeping

by the_chaotic_lesbian



Series: nabatean au [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Dragon AU, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Other, Sleepy Linhardt von Hevring, nabatean ferdinand, nabatean linhardt, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25350859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_chaotic_lesbian/pseuds/the_chaotic_lesbian
Summary: Linhardt doesn’t remember getting captured.He remembers going to the library, torch in hand, to pick out some more books for his nightly reading. His father had scolded him for days after he’d been caught in the library after hours the last time, so this time he is simply not foolish enough to stay.However, after sleeping for a thousand years, he finds having a regular, human sleep schedule to be… tiring. He’s far too scared of falling into another coma to risk sleeping every single night, and as such, he needs something to keep him busy.~~~~~~~~or, the aftermath of a kidnapping, and five times linhardt falls asleep.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Ferdinand von Aegir & Linhardt von Hevring, Flayn & Linhardt von Hevring, Linhardt von Hevring & Seteth
Series: nabatean au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781968
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	soft the drowsy hours are creeping

**Author's Note:**

> more nabatean au? more nabatean au. 
> 
> title is from "all through the night" by olivia newton-john

Linhardt doesn’t remember getting captured. 

He remembers going to the library, torch in hand, to pick out some more books for his nightly reading. His father had scolded him for  _ days  _ after he’d been caught in the library after hours the last time, so this time he is simply not foolish enough to stay. 

However, after sleeping for a thousand years, he finds having a regular, human sleep schedule to be… tiring. He’s far too scared of falling into another coma to risk sleeping every single night, and as such, he needs  _ something  _ to keep him busy. 

He remembers perusing the shelves for something new: anything that will help him better understand everything that he’s missed. Crests and relics are at the top of his priorities, because how did the humans acquire such things? He’s far too nervous to approach his father on the subject, Ferdinand and Cethleann don’t remember, and Seiros won’t tell him anything. In fact, this is probably her fault, he thinks, scowling at the thought. 

He had just reached for a book whenever… whenever… 

“Linhardt!” 

Ugh. Too loud. 

Linhardt feels… weak. Like his mind isn’t connected to his body. Like he’s floating. Except… except he knows what floating feels like, and this isn’t it, so maybe he’s sinking? 

Hands wrap around his shoulders, pull him upwards. He’d protest the movement, except aside from the rush of air, he can’t really feel it. His head flops awkwardly into something solid, though, and it feels… nice. Warm.

“Is he okay, Ferdinand?” Asks a voice. A familiar voice. He knows that voice… 

“He will be fine!” Says a much louder voice. It buzzes underneath Linhardt’s head, in a way that’s almost comforting. It feels nice… he just wants to sleep… 

Except that voice talks again, lower, the vibrations not nearly as audible. “Lin, darling,” it says,  _ he  _ says, “you simply cannot fall asleep right now, okay?” 

“But I wanna,” he slurs, and he finally musters the strength to blink his eyes open. Green eyes meet orange, and dimly Linhardt knows he should recognize him, but in his stupor, he doesn’t. 

Familiar, though. 

The familiar person smiles something blinding, and those hands tighten around him. “I know you want to, but can you wait for just a moment longer? Just until myself or Father can check you over.” 

_ Father?  _

“Ferdinand,” another voice says, and Linhardt finally, slowly, places the name to his face. Ferdinand. His brother, Ferdinand. Who is carrying him in a way he hasn’t since they were small. He’d be mortified if he weren’t so… so  _ tired.  _

“We are almost there, Linhardt,” Ferdinand whispers, and then raises his voice, “how much further?” 

“Close,” that other voice says. And then a hand brushes his cheek, fondly, and he leans into the touch because it’s simply warm. He craves that warmth. 

“Linhardt?” 

His eyes have fallen shut. When did that happen? 

“ _ Linhardt.”  _

If his name is repeated any more times, it’s lost to Linhardt’s peaceful slumber. 

~~~~~

He wakes with a sharp inhale, nearly sitting straight up. 

Linhardt still can’t remember what had happened in between picking out a book and waking up in his brother’s arms. Which, he notes, has happened  _ again _ : there are arms wrapped around his chest, and his head is tucked underneath another head. Not that he’s really complaining.

“Mmm… Ferdie?” He’s comfortable, like this. 

He feels those arms stir, and then lips gently brush against the top of his head. “Linhardt?” 

He hardly has the chance to protest the kisses to his hair before Ferdinand is sitting straight up, yanking Linhardt along with him. 

“Oh, Lin!” He exclaims, pulling Linhardt back into his embrace. How it’s any different from laying down, Linhardt doesn’t know, but his body still feels weak and overused and he hardly has the strength to complain. 

“What happened?” He asks, blearily, his arms trapped uselessly in between his chest and Ferdinand’s chest as Ferdinand presses them together in an embrace. 

“I was hoping you would tell me,” Ferdinand admits, low in his ear, hands clenching at his shirt. “I was so… so worried about you! First Cethleann disappeared, and then you did? I thought… we thought…” 

_ I thought I had failed again,  _ goes unsaid. Ferdinand had already admitted how horribly he had felt whenever Linhardt had first run away, all those years ago. Linhardt feels a twinge of guilt pool in his stomach, because while it’s not like he  _ asked  _ to be kidnapped, he should’ve tried harder to fight… whatever it was that had happened. 

“Is Cethleann alright?” He questions instead, shifting a little bit to make the position just a little bit less awkward. He reluctantly returns the embrace for a moment, curling his arms around Ferdinand’s chest and leaning into his shoulder. He doesn’t have the energy to keep himself upright on his own. 

“She is fine!” Ferdinand affirms, “she was not nearly as bad off as you had been. When we found her in that… that  _ dungeon,  _ but did not find you…” he shudders, and hands comb at his hair - which was down, and felt very very weird against the back of his neck - brushing it to the nape of his neck. “I thought the worst had happened, for a moment. Perhaps that was overdramatic of me, but I could not bear to lose you so soon after finding you again.” 

“...oh.” Linhardt closes his eyes, sighs. “I wish I could tell you what happened, but honestly, I don’t remember. I’m just… so tired.” 

“No matter!” Ferdinand presses another kiss to the top of his head, and Linhardt jerks just enough to voice his protest. It doesn’t deter his rather protective older brother, though, and he just hears him laugh. “Rest, Linhardt. Caspar has been demanding to see you, but I refuse to allow him in until you are properly refreshed. I simply have no idea how you put up with his energy all the time.” 

“It’s an acquired taste. You’ll get used to it.” Linhardt yawns, and flops helplessly into Ferdinand’s embrace, body going boneless as he drifts off again. 

~~~~

“Lin!” 

“Ugh.” 

Caspar sticks out his tongue at the comment - or lack thereof - as he sets a plate down, flopping down to perch on the edge of the bed. Ferdinand left some time ago - something about upholding the Aegir image, which means hovering around Edelgard and giving her well-meaning criticism - so Linhardt’s been napping on and off. At least, he was, until Caspar decided to pay him an impromptu visit. 

But he did bring the sweet buns that Linhardt loved so much. That’s a check in his book, he supposes. 

“Don’t ‘ugh’ me!” Caspar says, bringing Linhardt out of his thoughts. “You disappeared! For like, a month! It was  _ terrifying. _ ”

“Well it’s not like I asked for it.” Linhardt reaches for one of the buns. He’s starving, even if he won’t admit it. It’s very unusual for him to feel hunger, he’s normally so detached from his own bodily needs. 

_ That’s what happens whenever you hibernate for so long,  _ he mentally scolds himself,  _ it’s not like I was in perfect condition before running off anyways.  _

Caspar makes the reach easier by picking up a bun, meeting him halfway to hand it to him. “It was still scary! Ferdinand was going  _ nuts _ . If I didn’t already know that he was your brother, I’d think you two were dating or something really weird like that.” 

Linhardt groans. He almost regrets telling Caspar everything, though it couldn’t really be helped. After all, Caspar had found him as a child in his dragon form, and such a thing is very, very difficult to forget.

Besides, even with his failcomings and dim nature, Linhardt… trusts Caspar in a way he hasn’t trusted anybody in a very, very long time. 

Still, he shoves the bun in his mouth, ignoring the pointed looks that Caspar gives him. How ironic, he knows, that he of all people is shoveling down food like the animal he claimed Caspar to be not that long ago, but he simply doesn’t care. 

“Well, I’m here,” he says, swallowing. “Even if I don’t remember what exactly happened. Now please, Caspar, I am trying to rest.” 

“You’ve been resting for days now,” Caspar pouts, but he scoots a little bit closer, brushes his hand against Linhardt’s forehead, “but they did say you had a lot of magical damage whenever we found you, so rest up.” 

“How kind of you.” Linhardt mumbles, but his eyes are already fluttering close.

~~~~~~~~

Whenever he wakes up again, it is to the warm tingling sensation of faith magic, and bright green eyes that match his own staring at him. 

“Brother!” Cethleann exclaims, upon noticing that he’s awake. She looks nearly as exhausted as he feels, although her hands are glowing with magic. Frowning, Linhardt bats at them, even if he admits that the magic feels nice. 

He doesn’t want her overtaxing herself. Not for his sake. 

“Ceth,” he greets, earning a smile at the nickname, “are you alright? I heard you were kidnapped, same as me.” 

“Oh yes, I am well!” She ceases her magic, finally, to instead press against his side, leaning over him. “I admit, I do not remember much about it, but the professor saved me just like they saved you!” 

“...huh.” Linhardt closes his eyes, yawning. “I’m glad you’re okay, at least.” 

“Really, Linhardt, you should worry more about yourself sometimes.” And that’s the protective older sister he knows. Most of the time he hates the attention, but he’ll allow it. “If I am in such a rough shape, I cannot imagine what you must be feeling. Professor Manuela says that you were far worse than I.” 

Cethleann and Ferdinand sound the exact same, sometimes. Linhardt wonders if that’s a gene that skipped over him. Their father sounds the exact same, so he’s not entirely sure.

“I’m just tired, Ceth. Really.”

Cethleann meets his gaze, and he can  _ feel  _ her concern radiating off of her. “You are not planning on… falling asleep and not waking up for another thousand years, are you?” 

Linhardt snorts, “good heavens, no. Far too exhausting. Besides,” he pauses, swallows thickly. “I’ve only just reunited with you and Father and Ferdinand. I do not,” he pauses, groans at the way their speech patterns are rubbing off on him, “plan on disappearing again so soon.” 

Cethleann sighs in relief, and then she brushes his shoulder with light fingertips. “Father wants to see you, make sure you are well. Is that alright?” 

“Ughhhhh,” Linhardt groans again, resting back against the pillows. “Wouldn’t that be weird? The servant- I mean, counsel to the archbishop coming to visit one lowly student?” 

“Not if said student had just been abducted,” Cethleann points out. “You know he will come anyways.” 

“I do hate it when you’re right.” 

~~~~~~~ 

He does come anyways. 

Cichol, in all his glory, comes to one lowly student’s dorm room with a tea set and a bag of Angelica, closing the door behind him with all the poise that a member of the church must possess before frantically closing the distance between them. 

“Linhardt,” his father breathes, eyes wide with worry. “Thank the goddess.” 

Linhardt squirms helplessly as his father sits down beside him, tea forgotten as he pulls Linhardt into a sitting position. It’s awful and Linhardt hates it, but he’s still so boneless that he can’t do anything about it. 

“Didn’t Ferdinand tell you that I am fine?” He grumbles, but his father’s embrace is just as warm as Ferdinand’s had been, and he melts into it. Reluctantly, of course.

“I had to come make sure myself,” Cichol says, and he presses Linhardt’s head against his chest, curling his arm around his waist. It’s not the most comfortable of positions, but Linhardt just flops against him, unable to hold his own weight. It frustrates him more than he’s going to admit. 

“Well, I’m fine. Just tired.” Linhardt pauses, and then shuts his eyes, sighing. “And before you ask, no, I don’t remember anything.” 

“Flayn does not either,” his father murmurs, his arm curling just a little bit tighter, “and you certainly do not seem fine. You have been sleeping for days, your house leader is worried.” 

“I just need to sleep,” Linhardt opens his eyes to glare at his father, though it’s rather weak and half-hearted. He can’t be mad at him for being worried, not when he has every reason to be. “Preferably without overbearing family members checking on me every few hours.” 

“Then sleep, Lin.” A hand pushes his hair out of his face, and then he can feel that hand tying it back. How he found his hairband, Linhardt isn’t sure. “I’ve got you.” 

For what he hopes is the last time, Linhardt drifts off to sleep with a sigh, warm in the embrace of his father.

(and if his brother and sister join them, he conveniently doesn’t remember). 


End file.
